A Troubled Mind
by PBnJ
Summary: Death sucks. Everything sucks. I hate my life. There's only one good thing left. And she'll never want me. Or will she? HHr. OotP spoilers!


Disclaimer~ We own absolutely nothing, nada, rien, zilch!!!! Well…okay. I own the Fanta that's sittin in front of me and J owns her COCA~COLA and THE SIMS!!!! Well…at least her copy. And yes, I guess we sorta do own our plot….but udder than that…everything hurr isn't ours. It belongs to JK Rowling who lives way out thurr in Britain in her castle.

PB~WE ARE LISTENIN TO CHINGY AND LAUGHING OUR ARRRRRRRSES OFF!!! Haha! GAGA! BWAAAAAAAAH! Ooooooh it's the Fanta, baby! ((wanta fanta??))

J~ I would just like to apologize for PB's behavior…now on with the story!!!!!!!!!!

                             **                   _A Troubled Mind_**

                                                          _~8~     _

          _Journal…_

_July 30, 1996_

_What the hell is wrong with my life? Why do I deserve all this pain? Don't you think that having no parents and a psychopath who wants your head served on a golden platter after you is enough? All I had was Sirius. And then those fucking deatheaters had to take him away. Think, he was murdered by his own cousin. What kind of cruel world is this? Though at times I'm tempted to slice Dudley down the center. But where would I find a knife that big?  Uncle Vernon is making me work double since the dementors. And when is Remus gonna save me? I've been owling him every week with the updates, but he must not have gotten the letters. Or has Dumbledore told them to completely ignore me again for my own bloody safety? What the hell does he know? _**Dumbledore**_…_

          They think I'm such a baby. A little boy that need's his mummy's protection. Well guess what? My mum's dead. How the fuck do they expect me to save the bloody wizarding world from Voldemort when they don't tell me what the hell is going on half the time. I'm beginning to think they want me to lose…to die…

          Why doesn't Dumbledore tell me anything anymore? Why didn't he tell me about the prophecy earlier? I could have taken it. I took Voldemort for Christ's sake! Damn, I hate my life. And it hasn't even been improved by friends. Ron and Hermione? Haven't heard from them. Bet they're off snogging the shit out of each other in a bush. Ron…and **Hermione**…

          But I guess she deserves better than me…now that Ron's the quidditch star and a prefect. Looks like his dreams are coming true. On the way to head boy and quidditch captain. Whatever happened to us…all three of us? I'll tell you what happened. We grew up. Lost our carefree souls…our immaturity…our oblivious nature. Damn. Life's a bitch.

                                                                                                ~8~

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring. (a/n- workin' the onomatopoeia)

"Damn," Harry muttered before hopping out of bed. It was three am. Time for work. 

          Ever since the dementor incident, Uncle Vernon had held a major grudge against Harry. He wanted him out of his site as long as possible (not to mention the guarantee of him being unable to watch the news). His job was at a stupid fertilizing plant…otherwise known as a shithole, literally.  He looked in the mirror, not recognizing the boy who looked back. His muscles had been toned, not only from quidditch, but also from shoveling manure from sunup to sundown; and his skin had been tanned by the sun's constantly beating rays  (a/n-sorry for another note…but I, PB, just want to say that THIS WAS ALL J and it is totally cliché, but…if you like it was all my idea J). Well, he could thank his uncle for one thing. He was no longer 'Scrawny Potter' as Malfoy had so happily dubbed him. Maybe Hermione would see him differently…and notice him. I mean, really notice him.

          With this thought on his mind, Harry opened his wardrobe and pulled out a dirt-stained pair of jeans, and a tight white tee (PBnJ~grrr…). He slipped on his clothes before putting on his muddy working boots and walking down the stairs. Hell, he had to do something to anger his aunt.

          Before slipping out of the house, he grabbed a couple bananas and hit the streets. After what seemed forever, he arrived at Winn & Son Fertilizing Plant. 

          "Mornin' John," he called to his boss before picking up a spare shovel and digging into the manure.

          "Mornin' Maggot," John called to Harry, "Guess we shouldn't call you Maggot anymore. You grew quite a bit over the summer. But, lucky for you, the name's not going anywhere."

          "Haha. Very funny Boss," Harry replied sarcastically.

          "I thought so," he said with a smile before turning away.

          Harry continued shoveling until his wheelbarrow was full and then pushed it to the bagging zone. He then went back to the pile of manure to shovel again. This tedious cycle continued for hours until lunch at noon.

          His lunch only consisted of a sandwich bought from a shop down the street, but he milked it for what it was worth. The bread was a perfect source of energy from all of the carbohydrates. The beef on the sandwich was a good source of protein and the lettuce and tomatoes were perfect vitamins. (PB~Yo! Mr. Fo would be proud! …science teacher, Mr. Foley…don't ask). Other than his break time, the day dragged on for what seemed forever.

          He returned to Number Four Privet Drive around six that night, just in time for Dudley's 'healthy meal', a hearty salad (of which Dudley got the largest portion, and Harry the smallest).

          Harry dragged himself up the stairs, tired enough to fall asleep on his own two feet. He took a shower in a daze and hopped into bed, wanting enough sleep to last the next day of hard work.

                                                                                                ~8~

          "Harry! Harry! Wake up, Harry!" said a loud voice in Harry's ear.

          "It's an hour till work. I'll sprint to be on time! Just leave me alone… Auntie dearest!" Harry replied annoyed, the last bit sarcastically.

          "But Harry, it's 9:30!"

          "WHAT? I'M LATE!" he screamed, knocking the female in the face while jumping out of the bed.

          "Harry! Wait! Don't be a nonse (© Jenny Winn…meaning is doofus). It's me! Hermione!

          "Hermione?" at once Harry forgot all of his anger towards her. "But what are you doing here?" he asked, reaching for his glasses and hastily shoving them onto the bridge of his nose.

          "Don't tell me you've forgotten!"

          "Forgotten what?"

          "Happy Birthday, Harry!" she exclaimed before pouncing on him with a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek.

          "Happy what? It's my birthday? But that's not for another…no days…" he said, the realization finally hitting him in the face.

          "But, where's Ron?" he asked.

          "Haven't heard from him all summer…thought you would've known."

          "Nope." Harry's spirits slightly lifted. 'So she hadn't been with him,' he thought.

          'So Harry's not gay…' thought Hermione, her spirits lifting also.

          "Wait a minute, how did you get past my spastic uncle?"

          "Oh. I have my ways," she smiled impishly.

          "Hermione!" Harry cried shocked and then looked down at himself to hide the blush slowly creeping up his neck.

          "What?" she innocently inquired.

          There was an awkward silence before Harry noticed his attire, "Er…well, sorry to break your bad-girl moment. But would you please leave so I can get dressed…I am sort of half-clothed here," he gestured towards his single garment: plaid boxers.

          Her eyes got as wide as saucers and her face turned a violent shade of red as she took in Harry's 'new form' (PB~ again, J is on a bit of a 'naughty' streak…but if you like it…). "Er—uh—ye—er—ah—e—s-sure!" she said in a high-pitched tone while walking briskly out the door, I'll just be right outside."

          Harry smiled to himself while shaking his head and walked to his wardrobe. He pulled out one of Dudley's older t-shirts, because the newer ones had no chance of fitting. The plain black t-shirt he'd chosen fit nicely and was complimented by a pair of baggy khakis. He quickly put a black belt on and his scuffed up trainers. He glanced in the mirror, saw his unruly hair groaned, "Ergh, I need a haircut," he said aloud.

          "Yes you dooooo!" he heard in a sing-song voice on the other side of the door.

          He opened the door, again smiling. "Thanks for the advice, 'Mione."

          "What would you do without me?" 

          "Be a horrible slob…with a LIFE!"

          She slapped him playfully on the arm. "Anyways, I have yet to give you my gift."

          "I get a gift?" he winked suggestively.

          "Oh, stop it!" she grinned.

          "Well, then. What am I gettin'?" he asked.

          "That's what I was about to tell you when I was so rudely interrupted. And I do mean RUDELY!" 

          "Okay…but why are you here and not sending the gift by owl?"

          "You'll see…"

                                                                                                ~8~

PB~Ok…we completely understand that this completely sucked.

J~ Totally agree, but it was fun to write!

PB~Guess so…

J~Oh, come on! You know you liked writing about Harry without his shirt on ;)

PB~ ::wearing a smile::    Well, it had its perks

J~ yes indeedy!

PB~You did not just say yes indeedy!

J~Oh, yes I did!

PB~Oh, Lord. Save me!

J~Hey, I'm not that bad.

PB~You keep thinking that.

J~I will…

PBnJ~Well..as in our only other story…we hope you enjoy. This thing sucks butt! And we know it! Sooo…you probably won't hear from us ever again (unless we get sooo many reviews that you can't bear for us to not continue). But we doubt that will happen with the suckosity of this ficlet. We did have a good l/j fic goin…but then we read OotP and sorta lost our motivation…so…that's all for now…maybe later, maybe not. Buh byes!

J~I wuv youse guys!

PB~Wanna be new Yorker!

J~Well…well, you can't come to my birthday party ::blows raspberry::

PB~ ::in a Daria-ish tone:: oh no. I think I will die.

J~ Hey! I'm supposed to be the depressed one here.

PB~If you were depressed, you wouldn't be able to do such a perfect impression of Daria, would ya, huh??

J~ no comment.


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